


Don't Judge a Gift By Its Wrapping

by kageygirl



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Kingsman: The Golden Circle Fix-it, M/M, Post-Kingsman: The Golden Circle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 02:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/kageygirl
Summary: In which it's the Statesman holiday party, Eggsy is a sneak, and Harry is the world's most un-fucking-reliable narrator.





	Don't Judge a Gift By Its Wrapping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [threewick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewick/gifts).



> Not Brit-picked. For threewick's [12 Days of Kingsman Kinkmas](https://threewickfic.tumblr.com/post/167508135327/12-days-of-kingsman-kinkmas-hi-hi-ive-created):
> 
> **Naughty or Nice Switch** : Top/bottom switch OR a character does a 180
> 
> (I'm a few days late, oh well.)

The Statesman holiday party was just as exuberantly and overwhelmingly American as the Statesmen themselves -- loud and lively, with a frankly bewildering array of food and drink on hand. There wasn't a single square foot of the large, wood-paneled dining room that hadn't been besieged by tinsel and fairy lights and artificial snow, at least from Harry's vantage point, and the intermingling of metallic foil Stars and Stripes with equally reflective Union Jacks all about the room was nearly as appalling as it was overwhelming. Still, the determination evident in the equal display of their national ensigns was charming, in its own way. Brother agencies, indeed.

Harry might have long since made polite excuses and retired for the evening, but Eggsy seemed to be enjoying himself, embedded as he was in a cheerful knot of Statesmen over by the fireplace, and Harry could no more deny himself the opportunity to watch Eggsy being unrestrainedly happy than he could deny Eggsy the chance for simple levity. It had been far too long since he'd seen such a thing. 

Eggsy's relationship with the Swedish princess had gone tits-up, somehow; Harry hadn't been privy to the details, nor had he asked. He would have told himself that a gentleman didn't pry into the affairs of others, but he'd told so many lies in his life that the idea of adding to the tally merely for his own comfort was wearying. In truth, Harry hadn't really done his best to help Eggsy save his relationship; he was only desperately glad not to have lost Eggsy to the far-too-public life of a royal consort. He would have withered and faded away in such a life, his gifts squandered and neglected.

But neither was the younger man suited to the solitary life, as Harry was; while nothing could replace the people that he'd lost -- that they'd both lost -- it was good that he'd been making new friends. Many of the Statesmen, especially the younger ones, had proven to be no match for Eggsy's irreverent charisma, as evidenced by the laughter that periodically broke out across the room. A year of hard experience, including having saved the world (twice), had tempered Eggsy's bravado into true confidence, and when he was in a good mood, his presence was nearly magnetic.

As if he felt Harry's eye on him -- a good instinct, for a spy -- Eggsy looked up to meet Harry's gaze from across the room, and broke into a brilliant smile.

He smoothly extricated himself from the group without a visible hint of effort and made his way toward Harry, dodging a careless arm flung wide by Agent Bourbon mid-story, returning Agent Rye's greeting in passing with a wink and a nod and without slowing his pace.

"Hey, Harry," he said, settling against the wall at Harry's right side. "Enjoying the party?"

"I've never seen anything like it," he replied, which had the added benefit of being entirely true, and watched Eggsy's eyebrows quirk as his noncommittal answer did not escape unnoticed.

Eggsy's cheeks had an inviting, rosy glow, and the fairy lights reflected off the shine of his eyes. 

"Tequila brought a shitload of Christmas crackers back from London on his last trip," Eggsy said, and jostled his arm with an elbow. "Wanna come help me show 'em how it's done?"

Harry allowed himself a moment to soak in the line of warmth along his side, then shook his head. "I'm sure you have it well in hand. Thank you, though."

"All right," Eggsy said softly, and dipped his chin as he stepped away. 

"Y'all know that boy just made off with your drink, right?" came a seasoned voice from Harry's blind side.

"I'm well aware," he said to Champ, and resisted the inappropriately affectionate smile threatening to break across his face. Instead, he lifted his cup to taste what Eggsy had left him with this time. Mulled cider, apparently, the spices lingering pleasantly on his tongue. 

The party had a full bar, as befit a distillery, and crocks of mulled wine and cider to supplement the other libations. The punch was spiked, of course. As was the eggnog. As, indeed, was the hot chocolate, judging by the nearly visible miasma of peppermint schnapps blurring the air above the urn. 

And yet, Harry had found himself teetotalling all night.

It was, he supposed, some private little joke of Eggsy's, a callback to their last mission together. They'd suspected a professional fundraiser of funneling charity donations into a lucrative side business in weapons, and Harry had posed as a slightly dotty older gent with more money than sense, whose younger attendant stayed constantly by his side to keep him sober and out of trouble. Eggsy had played the role perfectly, affectionately and ostentatiously swapping out his charge's drinks… until he'd allowed himself to be "distracted" by the mark's men, allowing the mark to take advantage of the old moneybags by sousing him up and soliciting a very generous donation.

So generous that Stateman's Trojan had been invited into his system as well, to happily gather a veritable treasure trove of damning evidence.

But afterward, on the plane back, Eggsy had rolled his eyes and sighed. "I just hate having to be so obvious," he'd said, in response to Harry's look. "Sleight of hand, it's an art form, innit? Deserves respect."

"I for one hold your disreputable behavior in the highest regard," Harry had said loftily, and, on reflection, without the proper consideration for just what the narrow, crafty look in Eggsy's eyes might lead to.

Now, Harry just sipped at his unadulterated cider. He could have gotten himself another drink straight away, but he couldn't bring himself to deny Eggsy his harmless fun.

Instead, he turned to face Champ, and found the man running a glass of whiskey across his mouth, just barely wetting his lip with the rim as he gazed out over his agents. On anyone else, it would have seemed a suggestive gesture, but Harry had worked out the method to his madness of sniffing cigars and spitting out liquor. Champ, Harry had realized, was a man who liked to continually test himself with his vices instead of avoiding them, who liked to stare them in the face and dare them to blink first. In a way, it was so painfully familiar that Harry couldn't help but understand something about the man.

Limits must be tested; he'd once said as much to the young man animatedly overseeing the distribution of foil-wrapped Christmas crackers among his circle of Statesmen. Once tested, they must also be respected, he decided after a moment, and turned away from the sight of Eggsy's bright smile and expressive hands to fortify himself with a scotch.

A series of pop-bangs went off while Harry's back was turned, accompanied by an enthusiastic whooping from the Statesmen. Harry had the bartender make it a double.

He angled his course back to his quiet corner to pass by Agent Whiskey -- they hadn't had a chance yet to speak this evening, and he would never not be grateful that she not only saved his life, but also cared for him during his year of amnesia. But he was waylaid by Eggsy, who stepped sideways into his path with a cheeky smile and his hands behind his back.

"Yes?" Harry said, aiming for dry but disturbingly certain that he landed closer to fond.

"Look," Eggsy said, "it's a crown for our Galahad," and brought out a paper crown from behind his back. It was a bright blue, matching the one Eggsy himself wore, and for reasons that Harry could not adequately express, he allowed Eggsy to settle the garish thing on his head. 

(They'd each politely ignored every pointed comment made about changing one of their codenames. Harry was Galahad. Eggsy had more than proven that he was no less Galahad. And while Harry suspected that he would one day be swayed into taking up the Arthur mantle, when Kingsman was once more a self-sufficient, going concern, for the moment he was pleased to share the title. Neither of them wanted to be Galahad alone.)

He'd seen Eggsy defuse bombs with almost as much care as he took setting the tissue paper crown in place, and when he was done, he ran his hands lightly over Harry's shoulders and down the outside of his sleeves, as if smoothing out wrinkles. "There we are, now you look proper festive."

"And isn't that a relief," Harry said. Eggsy's grin made the decorations look positively restrained by comparison.

It seemed as if Eggsy might say something more, but he didn't, just watched Harry, his eyes bright. Harry was himself content to let the moment stretch between them, feeling pleasantly warm under the light of Eggsy's regard.

Until a shrill whistle split the air, and Eggsy's head snapped up, his ears gone pink. He glanced over at the group by the fire, and then back at Harry. "Harry, I…"

"Shouldn't keep your friends waiting," Harry finished for him. Eggsy looked torn, but Harry gave him a nod to encourage him.

"I'll see you later, yeah?" Eggsy said, backing away with a reluctance that was -- unnecessary, but flattering. 

"Of course," Harry said, and gave him a faint smile. Eggsy finally turned away, and Harry watched him weave back through the crowd before resuming his interrupted trek.

Agent Whiskey was kind, and a fine conversationalist, but Harry could not in good conscience have said the same about himself at that moment. He was distracted, the room starting to seem too close, too bright, too loud, and without even the excuse of drink; Eggsy had left him with sparkling cider this time, and the fact that Harry hadn't immediately noticed added to his sense of disquiet. He excused himself as soon as was polite, and had just about decided that he should turn in for the evening when a gale of familiar laughter caught his attention.

It was Eggsy, looking down at something nestled in a garish wad of wrapping paper, his head tipped back to expose the pale line of his throat as he laughed so hard he had his other hand braced against Tequila's arm for balance. 

Harry decided there was no need to interrupt his merriment by taking his leave, and instead slipped quietly out of the room.

He hadn't made it far before the sound of hurrying feet chased him down, the familiar patter of Oxfords impossible to mistake for the boots favored by most of the Statesmen. He paused, letting those Oxfords catch up, but when Eggsy rounded the corner, he did so at speed. While their Oxfords had both style and lethal stopping power to recommend them, they lacked somewhat in grip, and Eggsy skidded into Harry while trying to stop.

Harry ended up with his hands cupping Eggsy's elbows, Eggsy clinging to his forearms as he tried to maintain his balance. The warm huff of his laughter brushed over Harry's face, and though he thought he might be holding on a bit too tightly, Eggsy didn't seem to notice.

"Sorry!" Eggsy shook his head, his eyes glittering as he grinned. "Maybe not my best entrance?"

"Depends on your objective," Harry said, and Eggsy's fingers curled more tightly around him.

"In that case, mission success, since I were in it to find you." Eggsy's expression turned more serious. "You're not leaving, are you?"

"I've had enough for the evening, I'm afraid."

"S'all right. Let me walk you to your room, then."

Ah, so it was to be another test; his desire for Eggsy's company weighed against his desire to see Eggsy happy. He could practically feel the line between altruism and self-interest going insubstantial beneath his feet. "Thank you, Eggsy, but that's really not necessary."

"No, but it's the gentlemanly thing to do. Or so I've been told." He shifted his accent a few rungs up the class ladder to add, "Perhaps I was misinformed."

Harry tried one more time. "I wouldn't want you to miss out on the fun."

"It's only fun if you're there," Eggsy said with a shrug, and Harry felt his resolve crumble away like a cliffside sliding into the sea.

"As you like," Harry said, and Eggsy's face brightened again.

When they started down the hall together, Eggsy kept one hand tucked into Harry's elbow, as if he were the one being escorted. Harry flicked a glance down at Eggsy's hand, then up to his face, but Eggsy merely blinked at him, the picture of casual unconcern and polite curiosity.

Harry, refusing to be outmatched -- taking the unexpected in stride was a lesson he himself had worked to teach Eggsy -- simply crooked his elbow at an easier angle for Eggsy and proceeded on. He didn't react when Eggsy squeezed his arm, but when he laid his head against Harry's shoulder, his pace did falter a little.

When they reached Harry's guest quarters, he patted Eggsy's hand before gently disengaging. "Good night, Eggsy," he said, and saw Eggsy's brow draw down in a faint frown.

"Ain't you gonna invite me in?"

Harry swallowed, taking in the color staining Eggsy's cheeks, the shine of his eyes. Remembering how many drinks he'd lifted from Harry over the course of the party. "I'm not certain that's a good idea."

"I am," Eggsy said, and he didn't even take a full step forward, just shifted in a way that was loose and predatory and inviting, all at once, a way that made Harry inhale a bit sharply. "Invite me in, Harry."

He did, if only to avoid having this conversation in the hall.

Harry shut the door behind them, taking a moment before looking over at Eggsy. Now that they were inside, Eggsy looked calm, confident, turning to face Harry with one hand in his pocket in a nonchalant, deliberate gesture that Harry is certain Eggsy borrowed from him. "Eggsy," he began, but Eggsy turned his head just so, eyes never leaving his, and the demurral Harry had planned slipped out of his grasp. 

Even in a silly paper crown, Eggsy was devastatingly handsome. Even more so with his jaw set in such a determined line, and Harry belatedly scrambled to assemble his defenses. Stubbornness and a refusal to look weak kept him from stepping back, but it was a near thing.

"Harry," he said, stepping closer, "there's something I've been needing to say to you for a while now, but it ain't been easy, coming up with the right way to do it."

"You can tell me anything, Eggsy." He folded his hands together behind his back in a loose approximation of parade rest, wanting to avoid mirroring Eggsy's stance. 

Closer again, and even though Harry had room to move away, he had the sensation of being cornered. Eggsy's face was so very solemn, and it set all his instincts on edge. "What we're doing -- what we've been doing -- it ain't working for me, Harry."

He waved his hand between them in a way that made it impossible for Harry to mistake his meaning, and Harry felt the pit of his stomach drop out of him. "I see," he said evenly, and kept face and voice calm by dint of clenching his hands together painfully tight. 

"Ain't sure that you do." Eggsy reached out and gripped his wrists, bringing their bodies into dangerously close proximity. He pulled gently but unrelentingly until Harry let him draw them from behind his back. "It ain't working for me, Harry, because it ain't _enough_."

He took Harry's hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over Harry's tortured knuckles, and Harry felt his breath stutter in his chest. 

Eggsy no longer seemed the slightest bit intoxicated. Instead, he looked sharp, incisive, and focused… until he blinked, and his throat worked in a swallow.

"What are you saying, Eggsy?" Harry asked, his voice low, refusing to allow himself to draw any conclusions. 

He squeezed Eggsy's hands, gently, trying to dispel his nervousness, and something in Eggsy's face shifted. Softened. Looking more centered, he nodded, as if to himself. "I'm saying that I need you to stop staring at me like I'm something you can't have. I need you to stop believing that this is about -- convenience, or being stuck together 'cause we're the only ones left, or whatever." Eggsy reached up to knead his fingers into Harry's hair with one hand, then bent Harry's neck so that he could press their foreheads together. "I need you to stop pretending that this is anything less important than it really is."

Harry's thoughts were a whirling, tangled mess of hope and disbelief, but one thread stood out, promising something important if he pulled hard enough. He'd been a spy too long to ignore that kind of lure. "Eggsy," he said, and it came out low and gravelly; his hands had found their way to Eggsy's shoulders, and he felt a shiver move across them. "Why did you keep stealing my drinks?"

Eggsy took a slow, shaky breath. "Because I wanted us both in our right minds when I did this," he said softly, and pressed their mouths together. 

It wasn't the first time they'd kissed. 

It had happened before, but they'd always been drunk, or exhausted, or mourning, or nearly fever-sick with adrenaline, and it had always led to frantic coupling and a mutual unspoken agreement, afterward, not to speak of it. It had never happened before when they've been clear-eyed and sober, and it had never been like this, ever.

Harry was glad of it, because it meant there was nothing that might blur the memory of the sweetness of Eggsy's mouth, warm and cherishing, or the soft hum he made when Harry nudged him into a deeper kiss, fingers curled into the hair at the back of his head.

He feared Eggsy might have miscalculated, because he couldn't imagine _being in his right mind_ and _being kissed by Eggsy_ at the same time.

He might have stayed there forever, drowning in the narcotic pull of Eggsy's mouth, but a faint rustle broke through his languor. He drew back to see Eggsy stripping off Harry's paper crown, then his own, dropping them onto the desk by the door. 

Then he looked back up at Harry, and something that he saw set him _ablaze_. " _Fuck_ , Harry," he muttered, his eyes dark, and yanked Harry back down, thumbs bracketing his cheekbones and fingers twining into his hair, hungry and fierce in a way that sent heat dancing over Harry's skin. He dropped a hand to the small of Eggsy's back, pulling him flush against Harry's half-hard cock, and even as he moaned into the kiss, Eggsy hooked an arm behind Harry's neck to keep kissing him even as he backed toward the bed.

By the time they bumped against the mattress, Harry's tie was gone, his jacket was open, and most of the buttons of his shirt were undone, and he hardly felt it happening. "Now you're just showing off," he chided, as Eggsy stripped off his jacket, and Eggsy barked out a laugh.

"Had a good teacher for that, didn't I?" he said, with a pointed grin. "Or was it a bad example?"

He didn't give Harry a chance to respond, instead trailing a line of wet, sucking kisses down Harry's throat that made his breath catch, light fingers finishing off Harry's shirt and dropping it off to one side, cufflinks landing atop it with a dull clink. Those same fingers skimmed his undershirt over his head, and then flattened themselves against his ribs as Eggsy buried his face against Harry's bare chest for a moment, sucking in a breath that whispered over Harry's skin.

Then he looked up, something fragile in his face being supplanted by determination even as Harry watched, and he dropped a kiss onto Harry's chest before pushing gently. "Down," he whispered, and Harry sat, Eggsy sinking down to untie his shoes and tug off his socks. He ran his palms gently up the tops of Harry's bare feet in an unexpected, tickling tease. 

Eggsy smiled up at him, and then rose up to kiss him again, pressing him back and down to the mattress. Eggsy's compact weight felt as steadying and _right_ as Harry had never let himself admit before, even clothed as he still was, but it could have been better, so much better, and so Harry started on Eggsy's jacket as well. Eggsy allowed him to toss it aside, but Harry only got his cufflinks off before he interfered with Eggsy getting Harry's belt open, and Eggsy pinned Harry's wrists beside his hips with a suddenness that had Harry's cock stiffening further in his trousers. 

Harry spread his hands slowly, indicating his acquiescence, but Eggsy continued to stare at him, breathing hard.

"You think you're the only one who _wants_ ," Eggsy muttered, and though Harry had never said any such thing, he could feel Eggsy shaking, knew there was something deeper at work here. Something he needed to work through. He looked back up at Eggsy, this beautiful, daring boy with courage far beyond his own, and choosing to let him take the lead was the easiest decision he'd ever made. He knew the moment Eggsy got it, because Eggsy dropped down to kiss him again, hard, and Harry couldn't help but slide his hands around his waist, soothing strokes down his flanks.

Eggsy's mouth gentled, and he eased back, settling his weight on Harry's hips. He stroked his fingers through Harry's hair, brushed fingertips across his forehead… and then reached for Harry's glasses.

Harry didn't stop Eggsy when he slipped the glasses off, though he braced himself for the moment Eggsy once again stared into his ruined face. This was the first time since Harry put the glasses on in that disreputable bar that Eggsy had seen him without them, since he'd watched Eggsy's face crumple, unable to meet his eye.

This time, though there was a solemnity to his face, Eggsy met his gaze unblinkingly. He ran his thumbs over Harry's eyebrows, then under Harry's eye, pushing at the tension that he found in the fine muscles there. Then Eggsy's gaze moved to his left, and Harry felt the pressure and the catch of Eggsy's thumb brushing over the scar under the empty socket.

Eggsy's face never changed, even when he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to that scar, and Harry's hands tightened around his waist. He closed his eye, drawing a heavy breath, and then felt Eggsy brush a featherlight kiss across his eyelid, as well.

It was followed by a kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, then his neck, and Harry opened his eye to see Eggsy kissing a path down his chest, glancing up from under a fringe of hair worked loose by Harry's fingers. "You," he said, brushing Harry's waistband with his chin, "have too many fucking clothes on."

"Look who's fucking talking," Harry murmured, and Eggsy grinned, bright and brilliant.

"All right," he said placatingly, and slipped Harry's flies open, sliding his trousers and pants off together and flinging them away. Then he licked a line up Harry's cock from root to tip, and Harry's head snapped back against the mattress.

"Christ," he hissed out, and Eggsy hummed a happy note before wrapping his hand and his mouth around Harry's cock.

They'd done this before, too, fast and sloppy and hurried, mindlessly reaching for release. Never like this, with Eggsy watching him as if he were learning every lesson on how to unravel Harry completely -- which, dear god, he might be, turning that intellect and that appetite for knowledge to the problem of taking Harry apart, piece by bloody piece.

Being the center of that attention drew a moan from him that he barely noticed until Eggsy's eyes flared, and he pulled off slowly, drawing a meandering line up Harry's cock with the point of his tongue. "Like that, do you?" he asked, eyes disingenuously wide, continuing to jack him steadily with one clever hand. Eggsy's loose French cuff dragged across his skin every now and then, a frisson that fed the fire along Harry's nerves in little unpredictable bursts.

He sank one hand into Eggsy's hair, scratching lightly along his scalp. "I like _you_ ," he said softly, unwilling to leave it unsaid for another second more.

Eggsy stared at him, lips parted, all traces of self-possession gone. " _Fuck_ , Harry," he breathed, and scrambled to undo his trousers with one hand, freeing his cock while keeping hold of Harry's. He wrapped his hand loosely around both of them, thrusting against Harry's cock, his saliva still on Harry's cock just enough to ease the slide against each other. Harry groaned, his hips jerking up to meet Eggsy's, and Eggsy stretched up to meet him in a wild, sloppy kiss.

"You posh… fucking… prick…" he breathed between more kisses, his voice thready with need. "Never had a chance, did I, _fuck_ ," and he came hot across Harry's stomach. Even as his hips stuttered out of rhythm, he slipped his hand back around Harry's cock, slick demanding strokes that had Harry coming as well, adding to the mess between them.

Harry tightened his hand in Eggsy's hair, but Eggsy seemed disinclined to go anywhere, mouthing gentle kisses against Harry's neck as his breathing slowly eased back to normal. Eventually, he shifted just enough to slide his weight off Harry, glancing down at the mess smeared across his clothes with an almost comical mix of pride and mild disgust.

"Perhaps next time we might both be naked," Harry murmured against his temple, and Eggsy's head snapped up, just missing Harry's chin.

"Yeah," he said, his tone casual. "Could try that, I guess." The effect was ruined by the grin stretching across his face, joy and something that looked enough like relief to make Harry's chest ache.

"Come here, Eggsy," he breathed, tugging as his neck, and Eggsy sank easily against him in a slow, thorough kiss.

At some point, they shifted, and a rustling, crinkling noise from somewhere down the bed had them both lifting their heads. Harry was amazed to see a blush streak across Eggsy's cheeks as he slapped a hand to his trousers pocket, and then slowly looked back up to Harry.

Harry just looked back down at him, arm curled around Eggsy's back, and Eggsy sighed before pulling a familiar garish parcel from his pocket.

Harry took it with his free hand and spread it out on his chest, paying more heed to Eggsy's deepening blush than to his own work. Then he flicked the paper aside, and pulled out a small box whose label proclaimed it to be peppermint-flavored condoms.

Eggsy buried his face against Harry's shoulder, and Harry could feel the heat in it against his skin.

"Tequila," he said, his words muffled. "Not the worst bloke once you get to know him, but…" He raised his head, face still practically glowing, but his eyes were imploring. "Would you believe this was his idea of trying to help?"

Harry let him dangle for a moment, turning the box of condoms over in his hand, and then raised his eyebrows, smiling down at Eggsy.

"What are your plans for Boxing Day?" he said, and Eggsy's answering grin was the finest gift Harry could imagine.

**Author's Note:**

> I lifted some of Jeff Bridges's description of Champ from the Golden Circle DVD extras.
> 
> hit me up on [tumblr](http://kageygirl.tumblr.com/)


End file.
